


Honor and Purpose

by sanctuary_for_all



Series: In A Better World [6]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But after season 8 how could I not?, Canon Rewrite, F/M, Feels, Fix-It, Gen, i didn't want to write this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-09 16:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18920965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanctuary_for_all/pseuds/sanctuary_for_all
Summary: Jamie knows his sister better than anyone else alive. The person he's not sure he knows anymore is himself. (Canon AU fix-it to Jaime's season 8 storyline.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For those who haven't read the rest of this series, consider it a largely revised season 8. Any plot changes are explained well enough in this fic you don't have to read the rest the series if you don't want to.

Jamie wondered at first if he was too numb to truly process what his brother was saying. Where was the wild, clawing grief inside him? The mad animal that had always been Cersei's to command?

"Bran said that Cersei is holding the weapon that ends her life." Tyrion's voice was as gentle and careful as he'd ever heard it. "He also specified that the flames engulfing the city were green."

Wildfire. _That_ word hit like a blow, old nightmares of the Mad King rising up inside him. Cersei was one of only three people who knew about those nightmares, but she'd still had those caches prepared. He'd told himself it was for protection, a last line of defense if the city burned, and a part of him wanted to insist that Greyjoy must have betrayed her. That she'd set the city burning to keep it from his ships.

But he knew Cersei too well. She wouldn't need wildfire to deal with a rat like Greyjoy. And she would never kill herself, not with her enemy still so far away.

He heard his own voice as if coming from a great distance. "And all of this has already happened? The Stark boy can't see into the future?"

Tyrion hesitated. "That question, it seems, does not have a simple answer. As he explained the matter to Lady Sansa, he can see all the preparation for future events and has centuries upon centuries of patterns to match it to."

"So it hasn't happened yet." Jamie honestly couldn't tell whether it was hope or fear surging through him.

"Bran expects the city to be burning when Jon and Daenerys arrive with the first contingent." Gently but firmly, Tyrion laid a hand on Jamie's arm. "If he's right, you won't be able to save her. And he's been right about everything up to this point."

If that was true, that would mean that he was right about Jaime as well. That he'd been right to keep silent about his crimes, because Jaime needed to be alive for a purpose. Jaime, who knew his sister better than anyone else alive.

Was Cersei fooling Bran, or was the boy once again keeping secrets from his family?

Jaime closed his eyes. "It doesn't strike you as odd that Cersei would end her own life before the enemy was even in view?"

There was a long, long moment of silence from Tyrion. "I think our last meeting made it painfully clear that I am not _nearly_ as good at understanding our sister as I believed myself to be."

"She knows how sentimental you are and exploited it." He thought about the unborn child that, even now, he couldn't be certain was real. His throat burned. "She's good at letting people see exactly what they want to."

"So you think this is a ploy." Tyrion sounded wary now.

Jamie opened his eyes, turning to his brother. "I _know_ it's a ploy." He felt like he had when he'd first ridden away from King's Landing, like a single certainty was the only thing moving him forward. "I need to be there."

Tyrion didn't say anything for a long moment, clearly wrestling with something. Finally, he let out a breath. "I can pass word along to Daenerys and Jon. They'll go in prepared for a trap."

Jamie pinned him with a look. "If you don't take me with the first contingent, I'll just ride there on my own."

Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "Not to be indelicate, but are you going back to Kings Landing to stop Cersei? Or join her?"

Jaimie's jaw tightened, wishing that was one of the things he was so certain of. "I won't let her move against your men," he said finally. "I'll stop her from finishing her plan."

Tyrion's voice was soft. "That's not an answer."

Jamie looked down at his hands, the same ones that had held Myrcella as she died. The ones that had held Cersei more times than he could count.

He lifted his eyes to meet Tyrion's. "It's the only one I can give you."

Tyrion sighed, covering Jaime's real hand with his own. "Don't let her get you killed." He swallowed, emotion overwhelming him. "The world is a better place with you in it."

Jaime's throat tightened as he turned his hand around to clasp his brother's. "You're deluded."

Tyrion's laugh was damp. "I've been told that before." Then he sobered, expression heavy with everything he was feeling. "For most of my life, the only words of kindness I ever heard came from you." He squeezed Jaime's hand. "I wouldn't have survived without you."

Jaime thought about his own childhood, the way that Cersei's love could warp everything around it. If she'd had her way, he would have been just as cruel to Tyrion as she was.

He'd defied her to hold on to his little brother. Sometimes, Jaime wondered if it was the only reason she hadn't managed to swallow him up completely.

He returned the squeeze, eyes wet. "I wouldn't have survived without you, either."

000

While Tyrion smoothed the way with his queen and potential king, Jaime packed his saddlebags for the journey. He'd brought painfully little with him to Winterfell, and hadn't been here long enough to gather much more than he'd brought. When he left, it would be like he hadn't been here at all.

The thought pained him suddenly. He should at least find Brienne and tell her he was leaving. Not that she would care – they had been temporary allies, nothing more – but he couldn't bear the thought of leaving without at least—

"So you're going."

Jaime's heart gave a single hard hit against his ribs at the sound of Brienne's voice. He turned to look at her, standing tall and proud as any knight he'd ever seen. Beautiful in a way he never would have understood before he'd met her.

He dreamed, sometimes, of touching her. They always ended with him guilty and longing in equal measure, but the guilt was never enough to stop the dreams.

Now, he merely nodded with the deference deserved by any commanding officer. Then he turned back to his work, not quite able to meet her eyes. "If Cersei's still alive, there's no one who understands her better. I can't let Jon's men walk into a trap."

It was awhile before she spoke again. When she did, her voice was soft. "And we can't choose who we love?"

He wanted, more than anything, to reassure her that love had nothing to do with his decision. To somehow find a way to explain that he was no longer even certain what the word meant, because the mix of exasperation and near reverence he felt for her had nothing to do with the blackly possessive need he'd always felt for Cersei. But he would have done anything to avoid having to fight her in Riverrun, and if she asked him to stay now he suspected he might actually do it. It would kill him, but he'd do it.

The things we do for love.

But she didn't ask. Expression closed down tight, she simply crossed the few steps between them and reached for the dagger at her belt. Flipping it around, she handed it to him handle first. "You gave me a weapon." She wouldn't quite meet his eyes. "If this is the last time we see each other, it seems only fair that I do the same."

Slowly, he took the dagger, aching at the thought of never seeing her again. "I should have made you a knight long before now," he said quietly.

That, oddly enough, was enough to make her expression relax a fraction. "Every time we see each other, we seem to be quite busy with other things."

He tucked the dagger into his belt. "I should have made the time."

Something fragile flashed across her face, lips pressing together as she struggled to collect herself. "You are an honorable man, Ser Jaime Lannister," she said finally, voice quiet. "Never forget that."

Throat tight, Jamie lifted Brienne's hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. "Knowing you has been sunlight in an otherwise dark life, Ser Brienne of Tarth."

Even in the darkness, he could see the shimmer of tears in her eyes. When he let her go, she slipped away like the last lingering remnants of a dream.


	2. Chapter 2

Yara Greyjoy's fleet sped the journey down to King's Landing. She knew as much or more about the scorpions than Jaime did, and Tyrion would be far more convincing at urging caution than he would. The ships docked at a distance, planning for reconnaissance before actually entering the city.

At least, until they saw it burning.

"Her own people," the Dragon Queen breathed, a combination of slowly dawning comprehension and horror in her eyes. Jaime, who couldn't forget the sight of her burning the battlefield, hoped she took this as a warning rather than an instruction manual.

Cersei... He couldn't make himself finish the thought, not while the distant green glow burned even behind his closed eyelids. His most secret nightmare, brought to life by the woman he had once pledged his soul to.

Snow, noble fool that he was, wanted to rush over immediately without giving any thought to what Cersei had planned. Jaime left his brother to deal with that and turned to look for a soldier who could row him to shore.

He hadn't expected to be confronted with Ser Davos, the knight who seemed to treat everyone around him like unruly children. "This one'll take you where you need to go," he said, shoving what appeared to be a young deckhand at him. "Better with a boat than anyone here wearing armor." There was a noise from the other side of the ship, and he turned with an exasperated sound. "Damn it," he muttered. "Looks like I'm going to have to go sit on Jon while Tyrion's busy with his queen."

The deckhand proved to be as deft in the water as Ser Davos claimed, getting Jaime to a secret stretch of shoreline in record time. Jaime sent him off again without telling him to return, finding his way to the nearest entrance of the network of tunnels beneath the city. He and Cersei had used them for years to find secret places for themselves during her marriage to Robert, and they were as familar to them both as the corridors of the Red Keep. Many had become caches for Cersei's wildfire, but a few were too deep and poorly connected to be of any use.

The only question was where Cersei would have chosen for her hiding spot. He knew she hadn't left the city, even though it was in flames. King's Landing was hers, and his sister didn't let go of things that were hers.

He didn't know if that meant she no longer considered him to be hers, or if she'd been certain he would return.

Tactics. It was so much easier to think about tactics. She would undoubtedly have her men with her, at least Qyburn and the undead Mountain, so if he did move against her he wouldn't survive the experience. She would be someplace where the wildfire couldn't touch her, but where she could enjoy the chaos and destruction she'd caused. Somewhere, he realized suddenly, where she would know the exact moment to swoop in and attack anyone trying to save the city.

He emerged at the surface to a chorus of screams, the streets full of panicked smallfolk trying to escape the flames. Even the Red Keep was burning, an inferno that could be seen from anywhere in the city, but he soon realized the crowds were flowing to the one part in the city that didn’t seem to be burning.

After all, why destroy something that was already a ruin?

Jaime followed the mob to the empty space that had once been the Great Sept of Baelor, swaths of melted stone the only sign that the building had ever been there. He could see the bulk of the Mountain in the distance, throwing or stabbing anyone that got too close to him, but none of the poor smallfolk who he hurt knew that the half-ruined building behind him held an entrance to one of the passages beneath the sept. What the Mountain didn’t seem to know was that the entrance could also be accessed through a thieves’ hole in the unguarded building next to it.

Jaime worked his way around to the other entrance, slipping inside and making his way through the ruined but still opened passages. He and Cersei had used these tunnels less than the others, since they’d been full of the High Sparrow’s men scurrying about with their own secrets. But there were times when she’d felt particularly bitter, and nothing had pleased her more than spiting the services happening overhead by making love beneath them. Jamie had been less than thrilled with the prayers ringing in his ears, funneled to the underneath room by ancient listening holes, but over the years he’d suffered through far worse to please his sister. He’d _done_ far worse.

Memory took his feet along the right path, and the echoed sounds of the torment and destruction above him drew him closer. Even then, even with all the certainty that had propelled him all the way from Winterfell to this very moment, he felt his heart stop completely when he saw her lounging elegantly on what seemed to be a melted altar. She had a goblet of wine in one hand and a small smirk on his face, head tilted slightly as she listened to the screams overhead.  

She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. She was an utter monster.

He was powerless to stop his voice, which came out dangerously close to a croak. “Cersei.”

Cersei stiffened slightly, the only sign that he’d surprised her, and her expression snapped into utter blankness. She set the goblet down next to her with a slow, deliberate gesture, only then glancing up at him. "So you've come crawling back. What, did you disappoint your new queen as much as your old one?"

He knew the correct answer to this one, so ingrained in him through rote repetition that he could give it even while his entire being was in turmoil. "You have always been my queen." He swallowed. "I just wanted to keep you safe, even if I had to leave you to do it."

A lie, and not even a terribly good one. He'd spent a lot of his life lying, but he'd never once lied to Cersei.

She lifted her head enough to pin him with her gaze. He stood there and let her look, not bothering to hide the fact that he felt like an open wound. She had always mocked him for his vulnerability, but she would attribute it to her before she'd even consider another reason.

After a long moment, something flashed in her eyes that looked like relief. Her lips curved upward into that small, satisfied smile he knew so well. "How noble of you." She gestured above them. "Are you enjoying the show upstairs?"

He wasn't sure if it simply hadn't occurred to her that it would cause him pain, or if she was poking at a wound specifically to get a rise out of him. "You did what you had to do."

Now her expression almost softened, something nearly like sympathy in her eyes. "Yes, I did." She gestured to a strange-looking candle next to her, then to the space in the ceiling where the sound filtered down. "Once I hear those blasted dragons, I'll wait and give the dragon child and those idiots from Winterfell enough time to truly get invested in fighting my wildfire. Once they're suitably distracted, I'll light that candle and send up a trail of colored smoke. Qyburn will see it, and send word for the Golden Army and Euron's ships to swoop in." She gave him a serene smile. "All our enemies, gone in one fell swoop."

He _did_ know her. Better than he wanted to. "How did you know when to light the fires?"

Now her expression slid into something that he’d always thought of as “oh you foolish boy.” He hadn’t seen of it since they were children, and the sight of it now made him ache. “Do you really think I didn’t have a spy among my enemies? I knew the moment you defeated the undead monsters, and I also knew that the false queen and the upstart Stark bastard couldn’t bear waiting to restore their forces before swooping down on me. Once I heard that they’d rendezvoused with the rest of the Greyjoy ships, I knew the approximate window to expect them.”

No one would be safe, ever, if she lived. He couldn’t control her, he couldn’t contain her, and he definitely wouldn’t be able to persuade her to a better course of action. “And when we _do_ have a child, they’ll rule unchallenged.”

Cersei looked faintly surprised at that, then looked down at her flat stomach and laughed softly. “Saw through that, did you? I forget sometimes how well you know me.” She moved close enough to lay a hand against his face. “I’ll admit, it was a ploy to keep you close. I should have known you would always return to me, even if you left.”

He wanted to sob brokenly. “I’m yours.”

Her expression became fiercely possessive. “Of course you are.” She pulled him into an embrace, and for a moment he clung to her like a drowning man seizes a bit of floating wreckage. But that was wrong, because Cersei had always pulled him under the surface with her. They had spent their lives drowning together.

Brienne had helped him remember how to breathe again, if only for a few moments.

She would want him to do what was right, no matter the cost. She was still safe in Winterfell, but if Cersei was allowed to win no distance would be protected from her wrath. Tyrion would be with his queen and the other men when they entered Winterfell, and Cersei might get specific pleasure out of watching him fall. If she could slaughter her people as nothing more than bait for a trap, they were no safer than her enemies.

Jaime closed his eyes, laying his golden hand against Cersei’s back to pull her close. “I needed to come back,” he whispered against her hair. His other hand moved for Brienne’s dagger, sliding it out of his belt without a sound.

He felt her smile. “Of course you did.”

He plunged the knife into the side of her neck in a single fluid motion, pulling it out again immediately after. She jerked back, eyes widening in utter betrayal, but the blood was already flowing too freely for her even stay standing. He caught her as she fell, slowly collapsing to the ground with her in his arms.

He held her as she died, her blood spilling out over his arms and hatred in her eyes. Inside him, he felt as cold as the Night King’s heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Come check out my [original fiction,](https://jennifferwardell.wixsite.com/mybooks) my [blog,](http://jennifferwardell.blogspot.com) or say hi to me on [Tumblr](http://sanctuaryforalluniverses.tumblr.com)!


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